Alligators May Be Present: A Novel

We’ve Come All This Way

163 I f the collision at Patch Corral Park had been the blow that jostled Glassman’s wiring, blurring his mental screen with snow, Rebecca’s announcement was the flat-handed smack that cleared the snow away. There was too much to think about, too much to do, for Glassman to be despondent. There were magazines (e.g., Parenting, American Baby, Fit Pregnancy) and books (e.g., What to Expect When You’re Expecting, Dr. Spock’s Baby and Child Care) to read. Rebecca and he were nothing if not diligent about their homework . There were special diets and exercise regimens to contemplate, a whole new host of web sites to visit and bookmark on their computer . From one of these sites, Rebecca had printed a special ninemonth calendar that would keep them up-to-date, daily, on the development of their sweet pea (as Rebecca began calling the baby). The calendar, Glassman thought, contained slightly more information about the changes going on in his wife’s body than he cared to know. Excessive saliva. Flatulence. Enjoy, he teased his wife. Rebecca’s first appointment with Dr. Arias went well. “I heard the heartbeat!” she exclaimed to Glassman as she kicked off her sneakers (ah, the wardrobe of the professorate, Glassman mused enviously). He We’ve Come All This Way was busy testing the texture of a strand of pasta between his teeth that he had plucked from a pot of boiling water. “Boomboomboomboomboomboomboom .” In her best baritone, she imitated the staccato rhythm she had heard through a microphone. Then she fished into her pocket and handed him what felt like a folded fax sheet, which he promptly unfolded. “There . . . there’s the little sweet pea,” she pointed to the black and gray image with her pinky. Glassman struggled to assign human attributes to what looked like a slightly curved spec, a comma nestled against the inside wall of a lima bean. The first baby picture. He put it inside his wallet and promised Rebecca he wouldn’t show it to a soul until they announced the pregnancy in three months or so. They were both relieved when Rebecca’s “tri-screen” (as Dr. Arias called the blood-work) came back saying all the right things. No sign of Down Syndrome or, as the results read, “any other disorders for which defective genes or chromosomes are responsible.” But what would they do, Glassman pondered for a moment, if there were signs of Down Syndrome or “other disorders”? Could they do anything in utero for such things, or did the doctors simply recommend abortion ? What would he and Rebecca do if presented the option at ten weeks, twelve, fourteen? Just as long as it’s healthy, couples cooed, congratulating themselves for their hip, gender neutrality. But what if it wasn’t healthy? What then? Nobody seemed to talk about this. Sitting there with the results of Rebecca’s blood-work in his hands, Glassman remembered painfully the time when his childhood friend, Robbie Gelman, told him that he had an older brother. He was retarded—like, really really retarded—Robbie had explained, and lived in an institution. Glassman rushed home and found his mother in the kitchen. She was crying over onions, which always bothered him. Crying was crying as far as he was concerned. He told her about the Gelman’s secret. It’s okay, mom, he insisted, he’s like, retarded. Really, really retarded. No Matthew, Barbara Glassman uttered calmly through her tears. It’s not okay. He should be home. Everyone can feel love, Matthew. Everyone. 164 165 If you were out you were out. Good for you. But if you were in you were in. There wasn’t an in between. Was this what his mother had been trying to tell him? Is this what she would tell him now if he were sitting over less positive results from Dr. Arias’s lab? Glassman didn’t dwell upon such somber thoughts, and chastised himself for entertaining them without any good reason, for allowing himself to be held hostage by such dusty, gray childhood memories. Caught up in generally buoyant spirits, Glassman found himself acting more generously. He spent hours teaching Trish how to search the web most efficiently for information using Yahoo. As he sat, she leaned over his shoulder to watch the screen; he was intoxicated by her Tea Rose and the loosely...